


Donuts

by theheadandthekin



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Donuts, F/M, Oral Sex, Smut, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 02:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6781870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheadandthekin/pseuds/theheadandthekin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abbie makes a decision to embrace the "fruits of life"--or, an excuse for filth. </p><p>(Follows the first scene of 3x17.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Donuts

Watching him sip her cappuccino, Abbie made a decision.

“Oh, I do that quite well, don’t I?”

That was it, the end of her patience; she could only squeeze her legs together so hard in an attempt to relieve the pressure building between them. Tamping down her flaring impatience, she took the cup back and steadied it in its saucer before sliding off her stool and shrugging off her jacket.

He stayed bent over the counter, but knit his eyebrows together as he watched her move around to the kitchen side.

“Put down the donut,” she commanded quietly.

“But--”

“Put down the donut, Crane.” She played for a moment with the zipper on her top. “You said ‘fruits of life’?”

Without further hesitation, he dropped the donut back in its sack and grabbed a towel to wipe his hands. “Lieutenant, are you--?”

She was already hoisting herself up next to the espresso machine when she cut him off. “I want to be clear. That was a seduction, right? That’s what all this has been since I got back, _right_?”

His eyes went wide a moment and he started to lift a finger in explanation. “Abbie ...”

“I know.” She lifted one leg up to unlace her boot and smiled, eyes on her work. “No pressure. I get it, and I appreciate it. You’ve been a perfect gentleman. More than. But right now? I need you to not be.”

On the edge of her vision, she caught his fingers curling at his thighs.

She wanted them curling inside her instead.

“Hey.” She looked up and made sure she caught his gaze and held it. He’d made his feelings for her as plain as he dared, and she figured she owed him the same in return before it got to … where it got to. “I want this, Crane. I want you. _Us.”_

He reached out and gripped her boot, tugging it off and out of her hands. It dropped to the tile with a thud.

“You are in earnest.”

She nodded. “Your moaning over that damn donut might’ve pushed me over the edge a little, but I didn’t decide I wanted this thirty seconds ago.”

“Good,” he said simply, gently lifting her other leg to access the boot.

“I’ve given it a lot of thought, since I got back. And before.” She watched the muscles in his hands and forearms flex as he worked her laces apart. “It’s only a little bit because of Apocalypse round two.”

He peeled off her second boot and stroked the inside of her ankle, up under the hem of her pants. “You needn’t explain yourself, Lieutenant. I have had dreams, desires, of course, but never expectations.”

He glanced up at her, a hopeful, open look on his face she realized she’d seen many, many times. “Our impending doom is no worse catalyst to action than any other.”

“So, you …”

“Yes.”

As nonchalantly as she could manage, she averted her eyes and began working the fastenings on her pants and quickly pushed them over her hips when she got them undone.

“ _Oh_.”

He gently removed her hands from her waistband and replaced them with his own, stooping to pull the material down to her calves.

It was all so fluid, she couldn’t help but tease him a bit. “I’m going to assume you know what you’re doing.”

From his crouch, he fixed her with a haughty, incredulous look. His pupils were blown as wide as she’d ever seen them. “ _Please_.”

“ _You_ please.”

“Oh, I aim to.” He stood straight again, closer this time, crowding her against the countertop with his large hands skimming up her bare thighs. “ _If_ that is what you want of me, Lieutenant.”

She was a little impressed he caught on so quickly and enthusiastically. Then again, she hadn’t even considered that he wouldn’t match her stride for stride, that when she was ready, he wouldn’t be. _Whatever you do, I do._

Taking advantage of having him face-to-face, she pulled him forward.

"It is. Definitely," she answered, breath ghosting against his lips.

He closed the bare distance between them. For all of their big talk, the kiss began softly, almost tentatively. _Reverently._

But the dam broke when Crane groaned low against her mouth. Why had they--why had she--waited so long?

Through her heady arousal, Abbie fleetingly imagined the world burning into nothingness around them. For the first time, with her partner's weight against her body and the edge of her granite counter digging into her thighs, she felt no urgency to care.

So lost in sensation, she gasped in surprise when he abandoned her mouth to lay kisses across her jaw and down her neck. As he attended to the skin just over her pulse point--definitely doing his best to leave a mark--he snaked a hand down out of her hair to push her panties aside and slide two fingers into her slit.

She was so wet, there was no resistance at all.

“God’s wounds, Abbie,” he growled.

It felt like hours that he spent teasing her like that while she undulated against him, slowly looping his fingers through her folds, teasing her entrance just to the first joint, then back along her swollen lips to graze her clit.

He pulled back enough to drop a short, searing kiss onto her lips and then _finally_ sunk down to his knees, dragging her underwear down her legs as he went. She leaned back on her hands to grant him better access.

Placing her knees around his broad shoulders and returning one hand to trace across her pubic bone and the crease of her hip with his thumb, he studied her intently for several long moments.

Unnerved a bit by his attention, she was about to say something about it when he broke the silence and moved his gaze to her face.

“You have the most beautiful cunt.”

 _That_ was a new one.

He caught her skeptical look and chuckled softly. “No, you do. Truly.”

“I thought I told you to not be a gentleman.” The compliments didn't make her less anxious. “More touching, less talking.”

In response, he smirked, and pushed one finger, then a second quickly after, inside of her. Setting up a slow rhythm, he fucked her as deliberately as he might translate a text or load a weapon.

She throbbed with need beneath, around, his touch but it wasn’t enough. Not at all.

 _Not_ at _all._

“ _Crane_ ,” she whined, and tightened down around his thrusting fingers.

Apparently waiting on her to beg, he finally dove in, nosing back her folds and lathing his tongue around her clit.

Then it was just every sensation all at once.

But after a few short, delicious minutes, even that wasn’t enough. There was too much friction between her ass and the counter, and she couldn’t move her hips to chase his mouth and fingers. Only able to rock a bit forwards and backwards, she was entirely at his mercy. And he was in no hurry to get her anywhere.

“Crane, _fuck.”_ She clawed blindly at his hair, trying to get him to increase his pressure and speed.

Instead, he slowed to a pause.

“ _Fuck._ Crane. Don’t stop.”

Putting some distance between her hot core and his scorching mouth--but keeping his fingers working leisurely inside her--he leaned his head against her thigh and laid a kiss on the opposite. She missed the intense attention immediately.

“Filth,” he panted lightly, and licked his lips. “I could not have imagined that you were full of such filth.”

“Hey--”

“Gorgeous, glorious _filth._ ”

“So says the man--” She cut off with a tight yelp when he suddenly plunged back in and finally, _finally_ took her clit between his lips. “With his face … in … my pussy.”

He felt him shrug, lifting her legs further apart, and hum an affirmative against her.

She dropped her chin and opened her eyes to find him watching her reaction, eyes dark and bright and full of mirth.

But then they turned _wicked._ He moved suddenly, dragging his long fingers out of her and shifting his hands to the backs of her thighs. She jostled a bit, but his grip was steady and his mouth stayed relentlessly on her.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed, several times over, in the short seconds she was coiled so tight she thought she might pass out.

Then there was nothing but his hands on her ass, his beard chafing her delicate skin, the stiffness in her locked wrists, the exquisite pressure on her clit. She squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her head back, focused entirely on her electrified nerve endings.

At their fevered pace, it didn’t take long for her to tumble over the peak of pleasure and cry out wordlessly in release.

Easing back, he worked her all the way back down with gentle strokes, drawing every last shudder out of her body.

“Shit,” she murmured, falling back onto the counter, brain and body buzzing.

She felt him stand between her legs and lifted her head in time to see him grab the towel he’d discarded on top of the espresso machine.

She grinned, sated and pleased. He definitely needed it.

She started, though, when she suddenly felt rough cloth on her inner thighs, then dragging lightly across her still-sensitive flesh.

“You don’t need ...”

He ignored her, and the look on his face was one of barely concealed pride for the wet mess they’d made.

The mess he’d made of her.

He chucked the towel to the side and leaned over her to place an open-mouthed kiss on her abdomen, gathering up her shirt along the way and trailing his damp beard across her skin, then up to do the same between her breasts. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she knew, even with her mind still jellied and thoughts fuzzy in post-orgasmic bliss, exactly what he was going to say.

“Now. I _do_ do that quite well ... don’t I?”

* * *

They pushed out the back door of the Archives into the alleyway, so bright with morning light Abbie had to raise her hand to shield her eyes.

She frowned, glancing around. “Looks like everything’s intact.”

“Indeed.” Crane stepped beside her and she swiveled her head to look up at him. “Now that the threat has passed ... do you believe the new gourmet donut shop is open at such an hour?”

“We almost died in there-- _again_ \--and you want donuts _now_? Really?”

He looked up and away from her, a smirk just lifting the corners of his mouth, appearing way, way too pleased with himself.

“Oh _my God._ ” She shoved at him; his posture remained ramrod straight, but the smirk on his face threatened to widen into a full grin. “All this time? _That’s_ what your thing with donuts was about?”

“And all your talk of chess was not, Lieutenant?”

“Really, Crane?”

He snatched her hand from where it remained pressed into his side. “I can think of no better way to celebrate our victory over Pandora.”

She shook her head and closed her eyes. She could hear robins. The whir of a delivery truck. The faint rustling of their clothes as he shifted closer. _Life._ The dawn of possibilities--so much saved and so much to live for. “I guess I shouldn’t complain.”

“I will see to it that you have no reason to.”

“Unbelievable,” she murmured. But the ache between her thighs was quickly returning.

He ducked his head to whisper low. “I heard that, and I know you have believed far more fantastical things.”

“Maybe I need to collect more evidence. Take down some eyewitness accounts.”

He nipped at her earlobe, his beard tickling the shell of her ear and the line of her jaw. “No sweeter words has any man ever heard.”

She chuckled. It felt good, standing here pulled against her partner, warm and alive, basking in the sun of a new day. Thrumming with energy and want. It felt right and true. “I’m _sure._ ”

“From your lips, Lieutenant, even the coarsest invective is carried by the shining wings of doves.”

“Hell no.” She squirmed against him, but he held firm and she could feel his body shuddering with suppressed laughter as she spoke. “You are done. And if you even _dare_ to try to keep that up, you aren’t going to have anything to do with these lips.”

He gave her a faux scoff. “Then I shall endeavor to still the poetry on my tongue.”

“I have in mind far better uses for your tongue, Crane.”

“You’re certain of that? Undoubtedly--given the _evidence_ you have collected thus far in our acquaintance.”

 _Cocky son-of-a-bitch._ She shook her head again, knowing that although he couldn’t see her smiling from his height, he knew she was. If it were anyone else, in any other circumstances, she’d be concerned about how shamelessly turned on she was.

He paused an extra few seconds for effect and dropped his voice even further than before. “Let us then return home for a much-deserved fuck. Via the purveyor of fine baked goods, of course.”

A monster. She had created a monster. “I’m never going to be able to say ‘donut’ in polite company again.”

“Indeed not.”


End file.
